Keep the Lights On
by CamsthiSky
Summary: Missing Scene mentioned in Nightwing #29 that was not written. I was disappointed and emotional so I wrote it instead.


**If you didn't think I would cover this topic, then you were dead wrong. Nightwing #29 absolutely destroyed me, so have a missing scene full of nothing but pure angst.**

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"Bruce?" Dick asks, blinking at the tight grip Bruce has on his hand as he leads him deeper in the caverns. "What is this about?"

Bruce stops, so abruptly that Dick almost runs into his back. Which—considering the cape is almost bullet proof now—probably would have hurt. Bruce isn't looking at Dick, and after that conversation about metals and the mountain in Gotham and tricking the Justice League so he can finish the mission before the Justice League can interfere and mess it up—his words, not Dick's—Dick's a little worried about where this next conversation is going to go.

And then Bruce turns around, and with his cowl down, Dick can see his face and he—

"What's going on?" Dick whispers, swallowing. "What aren't you telling us?"

Dick's already dressed back in his old batman suit, and it fits like a glove. And Bruce. He looks so sad as he pulls the cape tighter around Dick's shoulder. It reminds Dick of when Bruce used to wrap him up in his own cape, and Bruce looks like he's doing some mockery of the old habit. Only this time, it's with Dick's own mockery of _Bruce's_ cape.

Bruce's eyes rove over Dick's face, like he's trying to memorize it—but that can't be true. Bruce has never done that before. Has never looked at Dick like he's looking at him right now. Has never looked like he's just on the edge of giving up and giving in.

Dick doesn't like it. Doesn't like what it bodes.

And then Bruce leans in and gently presses his lips to Dick's forehead. Dick freezes. He can't move, can't breathe, can't _think_. Because this—this can't be what he thinks it is. This can't be—

"Keep the lights on, Dick," Bruce murmurs, cupping Dick's face in his hands. And then, before Dick even has the chance to breathe again, to say anything at all to that like the ever pressing _where's the second half, where's the second half, WHERE'S THE SECOND HALF_ , Bruce is gone in a sweep of his cape.

Dick desperately grabs for the edge of his dad's cape, for a corner, for _anything_ to stop Bruce from not coming back but—Dick's just a second too later and he misses the cape by an inch. And a second later, it's just Dick. Alone.

He drops to his knees, barely able to remember how to properly inhale and exhale. It's not even moments later that he feels the weight of the cape settle heavier on his shoulders than ever before. Because this time—this time Dick had had the chance to stop it. This time, Dick had been able to stop Bruce before he'd left. And yet—Bruce is still gone. And Dick hadn't done a single thing. He'd frozen.

And now the world builds upon his shoulders once again, and it's a familiar weight he _hates._ Because it's a weight that means he's in charge. That it's up to him to fix things, or if that doesn't work, to hold them together like a patch job. That he's Batman. And Dick doesn't think that this time Bruce will be coming to take it back.

Jason finds him like that minutes later. On his knees staring at his hands in his lap. And Dick only startles when Jason asks, "What the fuck are you doing, Goldie?"

Dick blinks up at his brother and finally—finally—manages to get some semblance of his act together. Bruce is gone—possibly forever—but just like last time, the world keeps on spinning. And Dick has a job to do. Has a duty to fill. He has to keep the lights on until Bruce gets back. And if Bruce never comes back? Then he'll keep the lights on forever. Bruce had asked him, after all, and he can't turn Bruce down. Not for this.

"Nothing," Dick says, pushing himself to his feet and plastering a smile on his face that only Bruce and Alfred would be able to see through. And neither are here. Jason doesn't notice. "It doesn't matter anymore. We've got a job to do."

Jason shoots him an odd look, but otherwise doesn't comment. And Dick, he still feels like he can't take a proper breath, like the cape resting on his shoulders is slowly suffocating him to death. But he'll keep his head high and his shoulders back, and he'll keep the lights on one way or another.

That's what he does.


End file.
